James Gurney

This daily weblog by Dinotopia creator James Gurney is for illustrators, plein-air painters, sketchers, comic artists, animators, art students, and writers. You'll find practical studio tips, insights into the making of the Dinotopia books, and first-hand reports from art schools and museums.

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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Some great painters, such as John Sargent and Anders Zorn, did their most memorable work when they were face-to-face with their motif. Nature is so rich in her inspiration, it's reasonable to ask: how can anyone improve on a plein-air painting?

Isaac Levitan (1860-1900) painted this perfectly competent study on location. It shows a log bridge at the end of a millpond. It is well observed and executed. But it leaves no impression on the imagination.

Back in the studio he refined the image and transformed it into poetry.

He simplified the background row of trees and added a ragged patch of evening clouds. He eliminated the floating log and developed the row of timbers in the lower left. He brought more attention to the uncertain footpath leading from the foreground plank across the three logs to the thin distant trail.

The image suddenly takes on a new interest, not because it is more finished, but because it is better composed. By sifting his direct impressions through the filter of memory and imagination, his work touches the emotions. We stand at the crossing point between our frail human pathway and the downward journey of the falling water, as the sunset prepares to cast us into darkness.

By the Millpond (1892) is one of Levitan’s most beloved works, and it is one of the touchstones of the Russian landscape tradition.

12 comments:

Thought-provoking post. The entire quality of light changes from the plein air to the studio piece. From a predominantly yellow image with limited contrast in values, Levitan cooled off the colors and brought the path into higher contrast. It's possible if Levitan returned to the same site on successive evenings, he could have found that light and created the second painting completely outdoors. But maybe not.

My wife and I know people who insist on painting strictly on location, and never revisit or complete in a studio a piece they began outdoors. It's an honorable point of view, but if Levitan had felt that way we wouldn't have this painting. If painting communicates truth, perhaps we need to trust that truth is portable and we can carry it within us.

Once again you've read my mind. It was only a few days ago that I was pondering the exact same thing, how to transform my pleine air studies on my blog to something more worthwhile during the hard winter months here in Sweden. Some of them I have now come to regard as visual shorthand (anything that is really fleeting, like a sunset or insane cloud formations. Most of these are executed in under 30 min.) I must say that these are alot of fun to do as well. Arkhip Kuindzhi, Fedor Vasilev and especially Alexsei Savrasov are fellow Wanderers who has GREAT early morning and late evening pieces, and I would love to be able to see what their pleine airs looked like!

Steve, on the other side of the coin is Sorolla, he painted from life outdoors even his VERY large pieces, and I don't think wed have those fresh crazy paintings if he was in a studio. Some painters feed of the outdoors, others the privacy of the studio, and some both. Whatever floats our boats!

The poet Wordsworth once said that poetry is "emotion recollected in tranquility." We can apply this to painting, as well. The plein air piece is emotion, directly stated and with what tools, physical as well as mental, that the artist took into the field. Often, tranquility (nor time) is available in sufficient quantity to bring poetry to the scene. For that, we have the studio.

I don't find the studio version better, just different. For example, I find the distant trees in the plein air much more effective than those in the studio piece. I think the lighting is at least as evocative in the plein air also.

But I've always been drawn to the spontaneity of plein air. I just love to see the balance between accurate observation and the evidence of the artist's hand. Chalk it up to taste, I guess.

It's a really interesting post. A lot of paintings you see in galleries today, especially in the Southwest, are more in keeping with the first version, the plein air. But I have also seen painters like Scott Christensen and Richard Schmid bring their plein air paintings back to the studio to finish them, which I assume means add a lot of detail that comes from the imagination (imagination as far as color and composition).

I have painted plein air for some time now. Lately I have been finding the results disconnected from me somehow...I hope that makes sense. I have been experimenting a lot lately with adding details to these pieces as well as creating paintings entirely from my imagination.

A friend of mine the other day said there are two kinds of artists: those who observe and those whose art comes from the mind. I suppose an art career is about not only improving technical skill, but also figuring out which camp you fall into.

How do you do it? How do you find these images of studies and finished pieces and all? I am truly amazed at your blog.

Beyond that...this holds to what I believe. While a plein air painting can be wonderful in its own right, the studio is where an artist can truly find themselves. Working from life is crucial to get an understanding of what is seen, but (to me) it seems rarely that a plein air piece evokes what was felt. From my experience, that is almost always done back in the studio where you can sit and plan and figure out the best ways to manipulate the principles of painting to best convey the idea you want to get across.

I look at almost all of my favorite artists, and while I believe all painted outdoors, their masterpieces were commonly done inside.

This is a great find and dissimilation on the Plein air to refined technique.

For a long time, I found the finish for Plein Aire frustrating, and perhaps resigned to the dude under a canopy or a giant tent, to survive the british outdoors.

The finished painting, and its simplification of its initial live study makes perfect sense, and perhaps a change of mindset to assume plein aire as rapid onset studies: sketchings with colour notations might be key towards a more refined paitning for me